


they’ll write the ending for us all

by whythebananas



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whythebananas/pseuds/whythebananas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hunger Games have existed long before Korra was born. Every year, tributes are reaped from each of the twelve districts, forced to fight to the death. Only one was ever meant to come out of each one alive… until two did. </p><p>Or: Korra just wants to honor a promise she made to Katara and keep her granddaughter safe. She never expected to also survive the Games. But she did. The Capitol isn’t very pleased about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I started this as a side project to distract myself from my never ending list of writing projects (because why not distract yourself from writing by writing more, right?). It's basically my take on how and where the characters of LoK will fit into the Hunger Games series. Character tags will be added as they appear. The chapters won't be long, and will be updated fairly regularly until I catch up to where I'm at with writing. Hopefully you'll have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

The first thing Korra remembers when she wakes up is an unfamiliar bed in a sterilized room.

And panic.

Lots of panic.

“Jin-Jinora,” she manages before the rest of her words dissolve into a fit of coughs. There’s a hand that reaches for her shoulder and she jerks, eyes flying frantically to its owner before relaxing a little.

It’s only Katara.

Still, the presence of her mentor isn’t enough to fully calm her, because if she is here with Katara, then it means -

“Jinora,” she tries again, weakly.

“She’s alive. My granddaughter is alive, thanks to you.”

And everything comes back.

The Games.

Running from the Careers. Being cornered. Climbing a tree like Jinora showed her during training. Dropping the tracker jacker nests on them. The tracker jackers killing Tahno, the male tribute from One. Being stung and passing out. Jinora finding her and dragging her to safety. Fishing to feed the both of them. Protecting each other. Shin, the male tribute from Two she’d pierced with her trident for holding Jinora hostage. Holding her hands over the gaping wound on Jinora’s stomach, watching helplessly as her friend slowly bleeds out. The nightlock in her pocket.

_Oh Spirits, the nightlock._

But Jinora is alive, and so is she. Which means -

Korra manages a smile, but it disappears as soon as Katara speaks up again.

“My dear child,” Katara says gently, a regretful look on the old woman’s face. “When I asked you to keep her safe in there, I didn’t mean -”

“No,” Korra interrupts. “I didn’t - I didn’t - I looked out for her because you asked me to. But sacrificing myself, that was for _me_. If I had let her die, I wouldn’t have come home. Not as me.”

“President Hou-Ting is very unhappy.”

Korra swallows hard, looking down at her hands.

“I’m not going to apologize for saving her life. We won. It’s over.”

Katara leaves not long after that, checking that Korra’s injuries are healing properly before retiring to another compartment.

Korra listens to the steady hum of the train moving, taking them back to Four. She thinks of Katara’s words, tries to cling to the part where Jinora is alive, to the part where they are both going back to their respective districts. But alive isn’t safe, not when you live in the districts of the United Republic.

Korra falls into a fitful sleep after that.

In an adjacent compartment, Katara weeps.

She weeps for her fallen husband, her fallen friends, her granddaughter who’s had to lose her innocence at the tender age of twelve. She weeps for the woman next door, the woman she’s raised and come to call her own. Who doesn’t know what’s about to come.

“My dear, sweet child. It’s not over yet.”

Outside, the rebellion continues to stir behind closed doors, the last piece falling into place.

They have found the face of their rebellion.

They have found the Avatar.

 

+

 

It was seventy-four years ago when it began.

When the districts rebelled, angry with the Capitol for keeping them under its thumb. For flourishing and living in luxury and excess while its districts lived in poverty and famine.

A group of monks from the district temples who called themselves the White Lotus convened in secret, fasting and praying to the Spirits for guidance.

The answer came in a vision to Monk Gyatso, who was told of one person who will rise and lead the rebellion. Who will be blessed by Raava, the spirit of peace and light, with the strength to shoulder the weight of the rebellion. They will be tested to their limits and show true sacrifice, and bring balance to the United Republic once again.

He thought it was Aang.

Aang, the kindhearted teenager he’d taken under his wing who was determined to change the world for better.

Who led the rebellion with his team of friends.

Only to be crushed by the Capitol.

They weren’t outnumbered, but they were outmatched. The Capitol had airships and bombs and guns and military training. They had the help of the corrupt leaders of the richer districts who stood to gain from the Capitol’s tyranny.

The districts surrendered when Thirteen was obliterated and their casualties far too great.

The Capitol held its first Hunger Games the year after.

Aang and those closest to him were reaped, one year at a time.

Katara. Then Sokka. Zuko. Toph.

Maybe it would’ve been more cruel to reap them all in the same year. To see them turn on each other and lose their humanity. But the Capitol knew not to underestimate their loyalty to each other.

No, the Capitol preferred to pick them off one by one, to watch them each lose themselves one year at a time.

They all emerged victors.

But none of them really won.

Not Aang and Katara, who lost their vision for a better world and retreated to Eleven to marry and raise their children in hopes of living out the rest of their lives with some measure of peace.

Not Sokka, who wasted away with morphling. Or Zuko, who couldn’t live with the blood on his hands, the scar on his face forever a reminder of the great fire he had started to wipe out the remaining tributes. Or Toph, who had lost her eyesight at a flash bomb gone wrong during the Games and disappeared into the swamplands soon after.

None of them were a threat to the Capitol anymore.

 

+

 

Korra knows when she wakes up that today is different.

It’s the first time she doesn’t wake up from another nightmare, doesn’t wake up feeling blood on her hands that aren’t really there, doesn’t wake up scrambling to the phone just to call Jinora and make sure that the part where Jinora dies is only when she closes her eyes.

She sleeps through the entire night for the first time, but it doesn’t bring her comfort. She’d rather the nightmares haunt her in her sleep than wake up in one.

And she knows she’s woken in one, because today is another Reaping.

It’s been a full year, and today she will be forced to relive it again.

Not as a mentor, like Katara has over the decades.

No, she’ll be forced to relive it because she’s being sent back to the Games.

_"On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors. Let it also be a reminder that it is an honor to be reaped. As such, there will be no volunteers for the Third Quarter Quell."_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the story is a line from Santigold's Shooting Arrows at the Sky, which can be found in the Catching Fire soundtrack.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer between the Games...

It’s one month after the 74th Hunger Games when Asami visits Four.

She drops by the Victor’s Village and visits Katara first, who invites her in for a cup of tea before pointing her in the direction of Yue Bay with a knowing smile.

“She’s out fishing most mornings. I told her to catch a big one for dinner tonight.”

But when Asami finds Korra, she’s on the shore, absent-mindedly fiddling with a short length of rope, tying and retying it into all the types of knots she knows.

She approaches without the usual lightness on her feet, not wanting to startle Korra with her presence, but Korra makes no move to acknowledge her even when she takes a seat next to her. It’s only when Asami places a hand on Korra’s shoulder that the younger girl jerks, dropping the knot and reaching for her previously forgotten trident.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s me.”

There’s a look of recognition that flashes across Korra’s face, but her shoulders remain tense.

“What are you doing here?”

“Katara thought it might help if we spent some time together.”

“Why would she think that?” Her posture remains stiff, but Asami takes comfort that Korra hasn’t shrugged off the hand on her shoulder.

“She knows… we spent some time together. When you were training.”

Korra flushes as memories of her last night before the Games flash in her mind.

Right. _Spent time together._

It’s amazing how your inhibitions disappear when you think you’re going to die the next day.

But she didn’t die. She came back, and now Asami’s next to her again, and -

_“Promise me you’ll come back.”_

_“I can’t promise that. I’m not - aren’t you supposed to root for your own?”_

_“They’ve trained all their lives for this. They can handle themselves. It’s you I’m worried about.”_

_“I’ve been trained for this too. We’re Careers too, you know. And Katara is the best there is.”_

_“But you have to want to come back. You can’t give up.”_

_Korra kissed her then, because she knew she was in no position to make promises to Asami. Not when she’d already made another one to Katara and to herself._

_She kissed Asami because she wanted to feel alive one last time._

 

“...Korra?”

Korra looks down, picking up the rope from her lap and resuming her knotting.

 _I came back_ , she wants to say. _I couldn’t promise you, but I still came back._

“I killed one of your tributes” is what she says instead.

Knot.

Unknot.

“You did what you had to do to survive.”

Knot.

_Tahno, face swollen beyond all recognition from the tracker jacker venom._

Unknot.

_Shin, bleeding out from when she ran her trident through his stomach. The blood. So much blood._

Knot.

Unknot.

“I don’t know if it was worth it.”

“Don’t say that,” Asami hissed. “You came back. And you saved Jinora. You think that girl would have survived without you?”

“They should’ve saved her after I ate the nightlock.”

Asami slaps her then, and Korra reels back in shock.

“You tried to eat the nightlock because you knew she was running out of time. Are you so selfish that you’re wishing they’d waited _longer_ to rescue her?”

Korra clamps her eyes shut, willing away the tears that threaten to fall.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

She feels that a lot these days. Sorry. Nothing’s felt right since she came home.

Knot.

Unknot.

Asami is kneeling in front of her when she opens her eyes.

“I know it’s hard,” Asami says, her voice taking on a much gentler tone. “But I’m here for you.”

Korra feels a pair of hands take hers, and she looks down at them, taking comfort in the small circles that Asami’s thumbs are tracing over her the back of her hands. She stares at the hand enclosed around her left, the metal glinting under the sun, extending up to Asami’s elbow, and reminds herself that she’s not the only one who’s suffered in all this.

The thought makes her feel a little less alone, even if Asami hurting isn’t something she ever wants to think about.

 _Stay_ , she wants to say, because she didn’t expect Asami to show up, but now that she has, she doesn’t want her to leave. Because the metal should feel cold, but it’s the warmest she’s felt since returning back to Four.

Because they say only the strongest survive the Games, but she doesn’t feel very strong at all right now.

“How long are you here for?” Korra asks instead, afraid to hear that the day was all she had with the other victor.

“Two weeks. And whenever I can after that, if that’s okay with you.”

 _More than okay_ , Korra doesn’t say, but Asami doesn’t let it deter her.

“Then we’ll see each other during the Games when we mentor. Or you can visit me in Two if you want.”

Korra makes a face at that.

“I don’t think I’ll like Two.”

“I’ll just have to visit a lot then,” Asami says, nudging Korra playfully, and Korra finally allows herself a small smile.

Korra bites back a protest when Asami releases her hands, and she resists the urge to pick up the rope again. But Asami settles next to her, extending an arm behind Korra, and Korra curls up against her contentedly.

“I mean it, you know. I’m here for you. If you want to talk… or anything.”

“I don’t really feel like talking right now.”

She doesn’t feel much like talking these days.

“Okay,” Asami says, and Korra is relieved that she doesn’t push. “Why don’t you teach me how to fish? We can’t have you letting Katara down.”

Korra nods.

Okay.

She can do that.

She stands up, grabbing her trident with one hand and reaching for Asami’s hand with the other, leading her to the water.

“Well, first you’re going to have to roll up your pants… if you can. They look a little tight, but I’d hate to see the nice fabric ruined…”

“You noticed, didn’t you? I was hoping you would. I was wearing these when we met, you know.”

The piece of rope remains on the sand.

Unknotted. Forgotten for now.

+

The next time Korra wakes up screaming, Asami is next to her, arm slung around her waist, lips murmuring words of comfort and placing soft kisses behind her ear until she falls back asleep.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”

+

Asami visits often as promised.

One of the perks of being a victor, being able to travel freely within the districts - as long as you report to the Capitol when you’re summoned. Which, for Asami, is fairly often.

Korra doesn’t ask questions when Asami returns, and Asami doesn’t elaborate. Asami is there when it counts, and that is more than enough for Korra.

+

Korra doesn’t leave Four. She used to dream of visiting the districts, of seeing all the places that Katara had described to her when she was a child. But now that she has the means, the desire is gone. She’ll have to face the families of the dead tributes soon enough during the Victory Tour.

Jinora asks her to visit whenever they speak on the phone. She’s eager for Korra to meet the rest of her very grateful family. But Korra remembers stories told on makeshift beds on top of thick tree branches, stories of playing hide and seek with Ikki and Meelo in the cornfields, of Rohan’s first words and first steps. Korra tells herself that she doesn’t need to love more people and wonder if the odds will ever be in their favor.

+

Asami’s had years to train her face into a mask, to school her features into a smile for those who demand it. It’s a tough habit to break, and sometimes she feels it threatening to follow her back to Four. Sometimes, she has to take a few minutes for herself when she steps off the train to remember to relax.

She wants to be strong for Korra, wants to be what Korra needs. But Korra isn’t them, doesn’t ask Asami to smile for her like they do.

Korra deserves the part of Asami Sato that is _real_.

It’s not easy.

There are days where Korra drifts, where it feels like Korra is somewhere else and not next to her, and Asami struggles to help her stay. There are sleepless nights and sudden bouts of anger or anxiety or guilt (or all of the above).

But even when things aren’t easy, Asami finds that caring for Korra comes easily. Being around Korra isn’t always easy, but being with her - choosing to be with her - that part comes easily.

And on the good days, like when Korra’s had a particularly good haul that keeps her in good spirits the rest of the day, or when Korra finds her appetite and eats everything Katara puts on the table, Asami finds that smiling - the kind that’s real and reaches her eyes - that comes easily too.

+

Asami never gets the hang of fishing with a trident. Then again, she doesn’t really try that hard to learn.

Korra smiles the most when she’s explaining different throwing techniques, and there’s this eagerness that makes her look young and carefree again.

So Asami grips too loosely or throws too hard. (Or too soon, or just a little left.)

And when Korra laughs? What does a girl from Two need to know how to use a trident for anyway?

+

Katara wonders how a woman as bright as Asami hasn’t figured it out that it’s not the fishing that brings out that side of Korra, but her company.

She doesn’t bring it up. Those two are oddly skittish around her sometimes, as if they’re afraid she’ll disapprove.

(Or worse, find out that Asami hasn’t really been staying in Korra’s guest room during her visits.)

As if she hadn’t known what they’d been up to before the Games.

As if she hadn’t been young once.

(Her three children hadn’t been delivered to her doorstep by a kangaroo-stork, that’s for sure.)

But she’d rather they worry about her.

Happiness is fleeting when the shadow of the Capitol looms over you, and Katara understands the need to hold onto it for as long as you can. Wants them to hold onto it for as long as they can.

So she doesn't comment on the way Asami hovers around the kitchen when she makes Korra’s favorite dish. She stirs a little slower and mutters the ingredients and steps, pretends it’s an old cooking habit and not instructions for anyone who might want to learn it.

So she doesn't comment on the way Korra seems to be extra helpful around her house when a certain _guest_ is present. Katara tries not to roll her eyes too much at all the unnecessary flexing that happens if it means all the heavy lifting is done without her needing to ask.

She pretends not to know when they hold hands under the dinner table, pretends not to notice when half of Asami’s lipstick finds its way to Korra’s face.

(Pretends not to see the lacey underwear on Korra’s kitchen counter the one time she went to clean.)

((Though she finds herself insisting on hosting all the shared meals at her house from then on.))

 _They're good for each other_ , Katara thinks.

She’d been wary of Asami at first, having known about her upbringing and watched her as a tribute and mentor, but it’s hard not to grow fond of the young woman when she has been such a positive presence in Korra’s life in the past months.

She’d been worried when Korra had decided to move out after the Games. The house awarded to Korra for her victory is only a few doors down, but Katara worried - still worries - that Korra would isolate herself and choose to deal with everything on her own.

She worries a little less when Asami’s visiting. Has to come up with fewer excuses to let herself into Korra’s house. There’s only so much she can clean, only so many meals she can cook.

They make each other happy, and Spirits know those two kids deserve to be happy before the Capitol tries to take it away again.

(Besides, it's nice to see Korra spending time with someone her age for once. Saves her from having to be extra chatty with the mothers at the market just so she can invite them and their daughters over for tea.)

((Katara is more of an observer than a meddler these days, anyway. She’d set up her youngest with Toph’s eldest once, and well, that hadn’t turned out so well.))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Questions? Ideas on what will/should happen next? I want to hear them all. :P


	3. Chapter 2

The Victory Tour was always going to be difficult. Korra knew this. Knows this.

Still, every time she steps out of the train to greet the next district, she finds herself thrown by just how difficult it actually is.

She clings to Jinora’s presence, grips her hand tightly as they recite the speeches written for them. She tells herself to remain detached, to do as she’s told and pretend that her victory was the greatest honor she could have achieved.

The interviews after the Games had been easier. It had been easier explaining her motives for keeping Jinora safe, to convince the spectators - and hopefully the President - that her intended sacrifice hadn’t been an intended act of rebellion. So that maybe, just maybe, the Capitol would leave them alone and let them learn to deal with the horrors of what they’ve faced and somehow live out the rest of their lives.

It had been easier then, because it had been true.

Korra’s never been very good at lying.

She’s lying now, because she hadn’t found any honor in her own victory. The only good that had come out of this is the younger girl standing next to her that just celebrated her thirteenth birthday a week ago.

She’s lying, and she’s trying really hard to keep it up.

She has to try extra hard when a little girl from One presents her with roses and tells her that she wants to win the Games just like her when she’s older. When she spots Tahno’s brother standing alone in the crowd, younger and with more close-cropped hair but with the same pointy features and angry eyes, and comes to the sickening realization that Tahno had been his only family. When she spots the grim family of the male tribute from Four, a boy she’d once trained with as a child, brash and eager as she was. Who’d never recovered from a crippling leg injury from a fishing accident two years ago. Who Korra had never spared a second glance despite him being someone from home, because she had been too preoccupied with Jinora’s safety and her own survival. He barely stood a chance at the Cornucopia bloodbath.

She has to try extra hard when they’re in Eleven and an old man interrupts her speech, bursting from the crowd, yelling.

“It’s her! We’ve found the Avatar!”

Korra barely has time to process his words before the Peacekeepers force their way through the crowds, batons at the ready. Korra cries out, taking a step forward towards the easily subdued man, but four Peacekeepers appear out of nowhere and grab her and Jinora, pulling them back into their train.

The last thing Korra sees before the train doors close is the old man being forced to his knees.

Then when the doors close, a shot rings out.

 

+

 

Korra is thoroughly exhausted by the time she’s on her way back to Four. She can’t get the faces of the fallen tributes’ families out of her head, or the old man and his words.

_What in Vaatu is an Avatar?_

She tries to get answers from Katara, but Katara only shakes her head. There are too many eyes and ears on the train.

She’ll have to ask her again when they’re back at Four. Maybe Asami will be back from the Capitol by then. It’s been a long week, and the only thing keeping her together is the hope that she won’t be returning to an empty house and a cold bed.

The last thing she remembers before drifting off to sleep is looking out the window and catching a glimpse of a vandalized building before the train enters a tunnel.

 _THE ODDS ARE NEVER IN OUR FAVOR_ had been spray painted on it.

 

+

 

Korra knows without a doubt that the rules of the Third Quarter Quell had been designed to punish her. That it didn’t matter how many slips there were in the bowl for female tributes, because every one of them would bear her name.

The odds were never going to be in her favor.

Not when the rebels have supposedly claimed her as their Avatar, as if she’s some sort of savior figure for them. Katara had explained an old prophecy made decades before Korra was born, a prophecy of someone who would prove themselves worthy to rise and lead the rebels to triumph.

It’s the dumbest thing Korra’s ever heard. There have been rebels in every district before the Games even began, people who’ve defied the Capitol in whatever small ways they can. She knows, because Katara had been one before. Because she once dreamt of becoming one herself.

But that dream was long gone, dissolved over the years by nights of being woken up by the nightmares that haunt the only person she’s ever looked up to. The wisest and best person she knows. Who had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to train for the Games. To train, but never volunteer. To pray to the Spirits, to Raava, to place the odds in her favor.

“There is no beauty in death,” Katara had said.

Korra believed her then, but she had to relearn it the hard way anyway.

They all become the Capitol’s pawns once they’ve been reaped. But with one momentary unselfish act of sacrifice, she’d become the rebellion’s, too. Suddenly, she’s a part of something even bigger, whether or not she wants to be.

She barely hears her name being called. It doesn’t make a difference anyway, not with every eye that turns her way when it happens. She doesn’t remember moving towards the stage, or hearing the name of the male tribute, and she doesn’t bat an eyelash when they tell her there will be no time for goodbyes this time. There’s no one in Four for her to say goodbye to anyway.

The only person she has is Katara, who is on the train waiting for her, tears in her eyes.

It’s only when she watches the replays of the Reapings in other districts that she lets herself cry.

Asami Sato, District Two.

Jinora, District Eleven.

 

+

 

Korra doesn’t want to bother remembering the other tributes. Katara chastises her, tells her that she needs to know her competition. Reminds her that this is different, because these are not just twenty-four children sent into the arena. This is twenty-four people who have survived and won their own Hunger Games. People who have killed, and won’t hesitate to kill again. People who’ve had years of mentoring together to form some kind of friendship, and Korra and Jinora are the only ones who don’t have any ties to them.

“Know the careers,” Katara had told her firmly.

There’s Ping from One, who had worn a token that played a haunting melody after each kill. He had bullied a few weaker tributes into doing his bidding, forcing them to scavenge for food and set up traps in exchange for his protection until the stronger ones had been picked off before turning on them. Rumor has it he’d gotten his feet surgically altered to have two more toes on each side - for better balance, they’d said. He was reaped alongside his half-sister Lei, who had won with some makeshift molotov cocktails that burned down the entire Cornucopia.

There’s Zolt from Two, who had easily maneuvered through an arena rigged with combustion, fire, and lightning traps and used them to trap his opponents. The Triple Threat Victor, they call him.

Viper, the male tribute from Four, who’d trained with Katara before Korra was born, but switched to a different mentor when Katara’s methods hadn’t been lethal enough. He’d killed his last remaining opponent by stabbing him multiple times with an icicle when he’d lost his weapon, refusing to stop even when the cannon had fired. Korra had known to steer clear of him whenever they’d crossed paths at the fishing docks at Four, and she’s definitely doing the same in the arena.

But the threat doesn’t end with the Careers.

There’s Mako from Twelve, the victor right before Korra. He had taken out multiple tesserae so the odds would be in his younger brother’s favor, but had to volunteer when his brother had been reaped anyway, and had fought hard to come home to him. He’s quick on his feet and an expert at setting traps, both for animals and for people.

There’s Varrick from Three, who had won by unearthing the explosives from the platforms and using it as a trap to kill the remaining tributes. Zhu Li, who had the misfortune of being the closest to Varrick. She had been reaped to punish Varrick when the Capitol found him listening in on their transmissions. Varrick had lost more of himself with the lengths he went to bribe Capitol citizens and secure her safety than when he had been in the arena himself. Still, he’s the mastermind behind a lot of the Capitol’s technology and is probably just as knowledgeable about the arenas as the Gamemakers.

Kuvira from Seven, who had feigned weakness before slaughtering the remaining tributes ruthlessly with an axe. Who had refused to cater to the Capitol’s whims after winning and had her family and fiancee killed as a result. Who has nothing to left to lose in this Games.

Iroh from Five, strong and athletic, who’d been recruited by the Capitol’s Armed Forces shortly after his Games. Who’d probably been in combat for a majority of his life. Who had tried to remain aloof during the Reaping, only to fail when his grandfather begged the Peacekeepers to take him instead.

Korra won’t forget the image of the scarred old man weeping openly anytime soon.

But she can’t let it get to her, because there’s also Jinora.

Jinora, the oldest child of four, who had to be reaped at the young age of twelve. Who is Katara’s oldest grandchild. Who Korra had once promised to keep safe.

But there was also Asami, who had won her Games at fourteen, the youngest victor until Jinora. Who had been a welcome distraction for a seventeen-year-old Korra, one of the older tributes for her Games but just as scared to die as everyone else. Who had stayed with Korra after, soothing her from her nightmares and keeping her from completely withdrawing from the world.

Korra knows there’s no fooling the Capitol a second time. There’s no way more than one can emerge the victor.

She’s just not sure who to save this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Thoughts? I want to hear them all!


	4. Chapter 3

The rooftop is just as drab as Korra remembers, with no hint of color or any type of furnishing to disrupt the endless gray of the unpolished cement. It’s a stark contrast from the rest of the building, where every room is painted or wallpapered with different shades and textures dictated by the most current Capitol trends. It seems that whoever designed the building didn’t find use for the space beyond the view it offers.

It’s a nice break - they’ve only arrived a few hours ago and Korra is already sick of all the chartreuse (this month’s colors, apparently).

She rests her elbows on top of the low wall, careful not to get her hands too close to the far end like she’d unwittingly done last year. (She’d experienced a small shock - and well, of course the only place in the building that allows any type of freedom would still be keeping them _in_ somehow. They wouldn’t want to risk desperate tributes wandering up and getting any _stupid_ ideas about forfeiting the Games before the arena, after all.)

Korra was a little surprised when she found the roof unoccupied. The other tributes have spent much more time in this building than she has, and it’s a wonder no one else has claimed this space as their spot. Surely the other former victors wouldn’t be too keen on staying put in their own tribute quarters. Then again, maybe they’re all smart enough to actually try to get some rest before the grueling weeks ahead.

She stays there for a while, distracting herself with the city lights and taking note of all the new construction that’s happened since she’s been gone. She tries to empty her mind, tries not to worry about what’s ahead.

It doesn’t work very well. When there’s not much of a future to look forward to and the present is already pretty messed up, there’s really only the past to think about. And as much as Katara had tried to give her a normal childhood, much of growing up has been spent training for this. The Hunger Games have been a part of Korra’s life even before the first time she was reaped.

Everything seems to always go back to the Hunger Games.

 

+

 

Korra hasn’t moved from her spot when Asami finds her an hour later.

“You know, when I told you we’d see each other again at the next Hunger Games, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” Asami approaches cautiously, taking note of the Korra’s tense posture. “But hey, I’m here, you’re here. The night is young.”

Korra feels a kiss on the side of her head and jerks away.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” The playful look on Asami’s face only annoys her even more, and she turns around, throwing her hands in the air.

“Stop fooling around! This is serious! They want us to kill each other!”

Asami’s smile fades.

“I know how the Games work, Korra. I’ve been in one of these things too.”

Asami holds up her prosthetic arm and Korra looks away, focusing on the city lights below.

“Not like this.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Asami says, and Korra doesn’t rebuff her when she reaches for her again. Asami tugs her arm gently and motions towards the floor, and they sit, leaning their backs against the wall.

“I can’t protect you both,” Korra mumbles, turning her head and burrowing it against Asami’s shoulder.

“We’ll protect each other.”

“But only one -”

“Let’s not think about that right now.”

“I won’t kill you.” Korra’s voice is resolute. “I won’t.”

“I know, Korra. We’ll figure it out.”

 

+

 

Korra is even more on edge during training.

Her eyes search for Jinora instinctively, finding her in a corner with Asami, the older woman teaching the younger girl how to properly stab with a knife. It brings her a little comfort that Asami is looking out for her.

She resists the urge to join them, Katara’s reminder to make _new_ allies ringing in her mind. It’s stupid. She doesn’t want more allies. She has Asami and Jinora. She doesn’t trust anyone else to watch her back, doesn’t need more backs to watch.

Still, she has to try, because Katara always knows best.

She looks over to the rest of Careers, each brandishing their own choice of weapon menacingly at the rest of the room, not bothering to practice.

_Nope._

Across from them, Kuvira trains with her axe, swinging wildly and cutting projected targets with ease. Korra takes a step towards her but Kuvira stops to snarl at her before turning around and hacking at the target that dares to sneak up behind her.

_Yeah… no._

Mako and Iroh are busy sparring, so that’s also a no. She briefly wonders if she should approach Toza, the old male victor from Eleven, but she sees him chatting happily with the morphlings from Six and decides against it.

She spots Varrick and Zhu Li huddled in another corner, seemingly in their own world. But before she turns away, Varrick turns to Korra and waves her over.

_Okay, Varrick and Zhu Li it is._

__  
  


+

 

Time with Varrick and Zhu Li is… interesting.

Varrick is eager to talk to anyone that will listen, even if Korra gets lost somewhere in an explanation about force fields and magnets. Zhu Li is quiet, not once uttering a word the entire training session, but Korra knows she’s paying close attention because she always seems to know what to do whenever Varrick yells for her to _Do the thing!_ \- whatever that means.

Still, they’re the only ones she’s managed to spend some time with during training, so when Katara asks if she’s decided who she wants as allies, she shrugs.

“Varrick and Zhu Li, I guess. But not really.”

Katara raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. Korra doesn’t blame her. She’s heard the other Careers snickering at the pair during training, whispering about how they’d be the easiest to kill. Varrick had recoiled when Korra had motioned to the weapons table, offering to teach him how to use a knife in exchange for his… science lesson (and to get him to stop babbling), and Zhu Li looked a little green at the sight of the trident Korra had been wielding.

“They’ll be easy pickings,” she’d heard them say. “They’re not fighters. In fact, I’m pretty sure the man’s lost what sanity he had left trying to bring his girl home.”

_Nuts and Volts_ , she’s heard Kuvira call them. Varrick is Nuts, Korra thinks. But it doesn’t matter, because they’re the only ones other than Asami and Jinora who haven’t looked at her without any hint of suspicion or hostility.

Besides, it’s not like she’s really looking for more allies anyway.

(She hears Kuvira refer to Zhu Li as _Specs_ the next day and it dawns on her that Varrick is Nuts _and_ Volts.)

 

+

 

Demonstrations are a little more uneventful this time around.

This time doesn’t end up with Korra hurling a trident at a roasted pig, angry at the Gamemakers for not bothering to pay attention to the pawns of their Games.

It’s not like she could have, anyway - there’s a force field protecting them this time.

_I guess some of Varrick’s ramblings did seep into my brain_ , Korra thinks wryly, because she notices a slight sheen above the shoulder of one of the Gamemakers and a voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Varrick’s screams _Aha! The kink in the force field!_

Not that she needs to distract the Gamemakers this year. This time, all eyes are on her from the moment she steps foot into the room.

A man stands in the middle of the group, arms crossed, sneering.

Much of him is covered, from the long, black, hooded robe to the mask that covers half of his face. Korra had heard some of the stylists talking about him. About how he’d refused the offers of the Capitol’s best surgeons to fix the nasty burns on the top part of his face. About how he’d gotten those burns from personally testing out one of the arenas, a task no other Gamemaker has bothered with before. About how meticulous he is, how he’d wanted everything in the arena to be _perfect_ for the tributes.

Of course, Korra hadn’t been able to ask them to elaborate about the arenas. They would’ve probably been horrified about being overheard by a tribute. The Games are supposed to be _fair_ , after all. No one is supposed to have any knowledge of what’s to come.

As if they’d revealed anything new. Most of the arenas had been designed to feature some form of fire - it’s been voted by the Capitol citizens as the second best biggest crowd pleaser, right behind mutts.

Unfortunately, no matter how much more Korra had hoped to learn through eavesdropping, the stylists had been more interested in speculating about the new Head Gamemaker’s choice in mask and attire.

_Probably some weird Capitol fashion statement_ , Korra thinks. Not that she really cares.

There’s something about that sneer that makes her skin crawl. It reminds her too much of the previous Head Gamemaker.

The previous Head Gamemaker, who had no doubt been executed for failing the Capitol. For letting a tribute decide that there would be two winners, or none at all. The tributes have always been the game pieces, and he’d allowed one of them even think that she could be a player.

The previous Head Gamemaker hadn’t cared who won as long as it pleased the Capitol crowd. But the new Head Gamemaker… The top half of his face may be hidden, but there’s a fury in his eyes that tells Korra that while he may not care who wins, he certainly cares about who loses.

Tarrlok had barely spared her a glance, but Korra knows this new guy won’t make the same mistake.

As if she needs another reason to be targeted in the arena.

And hours after her demonstration, Korra doesn’t even need to sneak around to hear how everyone’s comparing the two:

“Tarrlok’s arena had been child’s play. Amon’s - wow, I can’t wait for the _real_ Hunger Games to begin!”


End file.
